Saudade
by Josephinee
Summary: He was never going to marry her. She just didn't want to see it.
1. Hogwarts

Basically, I re-read _Caring is Creepy_ and starting wondering about Lily's shitty position throughout the entire story. And then I decided to write from her perspective; how she experienced the whole thing. It's going to be a three-piece story.

I know most of you love Rose/Scorpius, and I do too, but I still hope you're interested in my take on Lily as well!

**Disclaimer**: no copyright infringement intended. All recognisable characters/scenery belongs to J.K. Rowling.

* * *

**SAUDADE**

**01: HOGWARTS**

The first time I saw Scorpius Malfoy, I was eleven and green and idiotic and naive.

It was my third day at Hogwarts and I had to pay a visit to the library (for a very specific reason, probably, seeing as I didn't read books back then, and I don't read books now). I was surrounded by likeminded souls – girls who had not really hit puberty yet, but still had enough wits about them to spot a boy of interest when he popped up.

And spotting Scorpius we did.

I wasn't the first to pay attention to him. At first I just noticed Rose, who was standing with her back towards us and was whispering ferociously to the boy who was standing next to her, leaning against the bookcase. It was only when I called out her name and the both of them looked up, that I met Scorpius's eye. The nervous laughter in my ear and the elbow planted in my ribcase effectively told me that whatever I thought of this bloke, my friends were in complete and utter agreement.

"Hey Lils," Rose said pleasantly. "Need help with something?"

Because, of course, the library was her sanctuary.

I did need help, really. But I didn't want to let that on, because Rose always knew everything and at that moment – with my new friends, and with Scorpius standing there, a picture of total disinterest – I didn't want to put myself in the position where I naturally belonged: at the bottom of Rose's tower of gigantic intellect. Rose always told people what to do, and Rose always knew better. So, throwing a subtle glance at Scorpius (who obviously couldn't wait until we would leave so he could resume his discussion with _her_), I kindly declined her offer.

She shrugged, "Okay, well, see you later?"

I nodded and smiled brightly at the two of them.

Rose smiled back. Scorpius didn't and ostentatively opened his book.

We left the library immediately (empty-handed), in a whirlwind of giggles and gossip. My friends and I came to a quick consensus: Scorpius was 'really cute but a bit unfriendly', Rose was 'like, so cool', and we couldn't wait until we were second-years.

Only one third of those opinions turned out to be sensible.

* * *

"You're Rose's cousin, right?"

These were Scorpius's infamous first words directed at me, spoken in the first month of my third year.

"Um," I said (stupidly, unsmoothly), "yes."

He looked me up and down rather condescendingly and asked, "Do you know where she is?"

"No," I replied curtly.

Be cool, I told myself. Be cool. I wanted to take some of his coolnes and transfer it right back to me. I wanted to be the coolest girl on the planet. I was about to turn fourteen and it was time for me to get along with the older crowd and not stammer every time one of them talked to me – even if that person was kind of a wanker.

"Okay," he drawled.

And then he left.

Obviously, he wasn't impressed with my coolness yet.

* * *

Eventually, though, Scorpius became nice to me. Rose and I were on good terms, he and Rose were on permanently excellent terms, and, well, I guess he figured that I wasn't some freak or particularly stupid. As I grew into my looks (which happened gradually throughout that year), I joined the Cult of the Popular, saw him at parties and small get-togethers, talked to him when we crossed each other in the hallways. We weren't friends, but I suppose that Scorpius, aside from Rose and Louis, had no real friends. I used to think he was like a ghost sometimes, like you couldn't really touch him. He _did_ things – I mean, he was there, physically – but he seemed distant, as per habit. The older he became, the better he learned to mask it – and then he became this terribly charming bastard everyone fell in love with even more, although he never deserved it.

(The thing about Scorpius is, he doesn't really change. Like I grew into my looks, he grew into his self-created persona. Underneath that persona, however, he is unmoving. Stable in his interests, stable in his activities, stable in his being. I tried to make some alterations, but as that happens with silly teenage notions, this blew up in my face.)

I wasn't _in love_ with him, really. That's too big of an expression. But I admit: I was one of those girls who still giggled about Scorpius when I was sixteen, and I secretly wished for him to ask me out to Hogsmeade – he'd asked several of my friends, it wasn't impossible – and my smile widened every time I ran into him.

It was a crush.

Innocent and stupid.

* * *

"O-M-G. Did you hear?"

My fourteen-year-old self was very accessible to these kind of conversation-openers. I therefore halted in the middle of my movement – let my spoon full of food hover in the air – and immediately rose to the bait.

"No, what, tell me now, _this very instant_?"

Telia Abercrombie settled down next to me on the bench and excitedly elaborted, "I heard that Rose and Scorpius had S-E-X."

I gasped loudly. "What? _When_?"

"Two days ago, after the party," Telia proclaimed. "Your brother's party."

"Wow, they really _did_ _it_?"

"Yup!" Hastily, she added, "I don't think they're, like, a proper couple though. I also heard she's going out with Sebastian Nott next Saturday."

"Wow," I repeated. "Wow."

She gave me a meaningful look.

"Yeah, tell me about it."

I glanced over at the Slytherin table, but Scorpius was nowhere to be seen. I did find Rose, however, sitting at the middle of the Ravenclaw table, ten of her housemates listening to the story she was telling. Louis's arm was leaning on her shoulder and I could hear his laughter rippling through the Great Hall.

"I guess we all saw that coming," I commented, getting back to my breakfast.

Telia grinned, "Scorpius is so much cuter than Sebastian though. I mean, seriously."

I grinned back.

My heart wasn't really in it.

* * *

I knew Scorpius was in love with Rose – I knew it for a fact.

In the summer at the end of my fifth year, Hugo had invited me for a non-girly sleepover during which he would give me tips on how to ride a broom properly and I would try to give him a little insight on the works of the female brain. This happened to coincide with a play-date from the next generation's trio, who'd cocked up a tent in the Weasley's yard and had secretly started to brew their own liquor because they had such a hard time buying it elsewhere. My evening had been quite fun, but I had felt the slight dullness of it shining through nevertheless, thanks to Rose, Louis and Scorpius's Obviously Way More Awesome Fun Fest. This continued through the night: I couldn't sleep, because I was bothered by the faint sound of their laughter coming from the yard. After much tossing and turning, I went downstairs, looking for a snack and perhaps some Sleeping Drought.

I found something else.

Like in every true love story, I found Scorpius, with no shirt on, sitting on top of the table, with a musing expression.

"Don't think too hard," I quipped up. "It'll make you look old."

Startled, he looked up. When he recovered from his surprise, he went along, "Yet wise."

I laughed softly. "Couldn't sleep in your tent?"

"Not really."

"Me neither. In my bedroom."

I sat down next to him, took a glass of water, tried not to be distracted by his chest (he played Quidditch). I felt a little nervous, being so close to him, being so alone with him. He smelled of a faded cologne.

"So," I started again, attempting to break the silence, "did you have a nice time today?"

He looked at me pointedly. "Did you?"

"I don't think my evening lived up to yours," I replied honestly.

Silence befell us again. It took him three excruciating minutes to speak up.

"Lily, I – "

But then he stopped, suddenly. Sighed. Looked like he wanted to say something, struggled for a moment, seemed annoyed at his own stammering.

I smiled encouragingly. "Something wrong?"

"No," he replied, quickly. Slipping back into his familiar role, he dead-panned, "Well, except for the fact that people are generally obtuse and my misanthropic feelings tend to choke me everywhere I go."

Now it was my turn to grant him a pointed look.

(Although this was probably largely the truth. Scorpius hates people. It's part of his charm.)

"Okay," he conceded. "Okay. Fair enough."

I dared to touch his arm as a sign of comfort. I did it on impulse, because it's what I would've done with every other person. It felt weird, but he didn't flinch, didn't seem to notice it, even.

"So what's wrong?"

"I – " he frowned slightly, and sighed again. "I only ever told Louis this. And I was drunk."

"Of course," because, really, for boys to share their feelins with each other, a minimum of five Firewhiskeys is required. "I won't tell anyone though." When he didn't seem convinced, I repeated myself, "I know you think I will, but I won't."

I really wanted him to tell me. Not just because I liked gossip, not because I wanted to be in the know. I liked the idea of him telling me stuff he hadn't told anyone else (Louis didn't count – ever), the idea of him letting me in. It made me feel special, included somehow.

"It's the oldest tragedy in the world," he said.

I raised my eyebrows. "What is?"

"Unrequited love."

I waited for him to say something else, but nothing came.

It should speak for itself that I was brimming with curiosity. Who oh who could be the lucky girl? Who could've managed to snag Scorpius's non-existing heart and caused him to lose sleep during the night?

"Love, huh," I replied, eventually. "How painstakingly... _normal_ of you."

He groaned, "I know. I fucking know. It's terrible. Next thing you know I'll be brewing Love Potions or some adolescent nonsense."

I chuckled. "I'm pretty sure _you_ won't do that."

"I'd rather jump off the Astronomy Tower."

Scorpius had a thing for hyperboles.

"Great," I said. "Lovely. Did you tell her already?"

He completely caught me off guard by saying, "Yeah, I did."

"Oh?"

"She laughed."

And then, it hit me full force.

There was only one person capable of doing that. The one person I knew that went through life like a volcano – intense and unrelenting, not caring one bit about the damage and devastation she caused. She waltzed through friendships and relationships like she didn't own anybody anything.

(I'm not saying that I never did anything morally reprehensible – I've had my fair share of boyfriends, after all, and not all of them were as well-treated as I'd like them to be – but I do have a fundamental sense of compassion. Rose Weasley, on the other hand, has been terribly unfair to others, because life has simply treated her too well.)

"Dear Merlin," I commented. "Sorry to hear that."

I didn't probe any further. He looked sad – forlorn, even.

As if his confession had hit him full force too.

* * *

I brought it up again, a year later.

"What happened with that girl?" I asked, looking into his glassy eyes.

He looked back, not comprehending. "What girl?"

I saw right through him.

* * *

Thoughts are welcome! ~Josephinee


	2. The start

Thank you for all the kind words :)

**Disclaimer**: no copyright infringement intended. All recognisable characters/scenery belongs to J.K. Rowling.

* * *

**SAUDADE  
****02: THE START****  
**

One year after my graduation I met Scorpius again. I'd heard all kinds of stuff about him, even saw him around a couple of times. But that was mostly in the papers. I hadn't actually talked to him in two years. I suppose he came round the Shell Cottage often to meet Louis, but seeing as Louis and I were never really on friendly terms (he told everyone I was frigid, I told everyone he had an erection deficit – that sort of thing) I naturally wasn't invited to these get-togethers. I was still interested in him, though, from a distance, in a detached way, so I tried to keep up with what he had been doing.

This wasn't hard.

He hadn't been doing much at all.

I mean, he did have a job at the Ministry (a good one, even). He wasn't failing at life. He just wasn't having any long-lived relationships to speak of, didn't get engaged, didn't have a baby (in or out of wedlock). In his free time, he basically just mucked about, hanging around with some blokes or good-looking girls, getting drunk (a bit too) often in fancy, expensive bars. Of course I know this is perfectly normal behaviour for a twenty-year-old, and it's not that I think getting hitched and making babies is the only way of getting ahead in life. I guess what I wanted – and to some extent, _expected_ – was a sign from him that he had finally stopped moping over the absence of my cousin.

Alas.

I did not see that sign.

All in all, what I'm trying too say is, I wasn't exactly surprised when I ran into him at a bar at 1 at night, even though this had never happened before. I think the surprise was all on him. Not because I was out of place – this was a cool bar, a posh one, where all the trendy and young and good-looking people went – but because of the state I was in.

As it happens, I was drunk and alone. And bitter. Very bitter.

So he kind of cocked his head and approached me with an actual swagger.

"Lily?"

"Yes. That is my name," I said, and tried to smile to make it seem less rude.

"Well," he smirked (he always smirks), "fancy seeing you here. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

It had been a while, but he hadn't changed much, save for his green Hogwarts uniform. His hair was still as blond, his posture still as straight and tall, his face still as perfect. He was wearing a dark blue oxford shirt with casually rolled up sleeves, beige trousers (with, of course, a Slytherin-buckled belt) and dragon leather shoes.

I was drunk and eighteen and stupid.

I thought, _you look like the man of my dreams_.

He sat down on the barstool next to me and ordered two shots of Blishen's Firewhiskey. I looked over his shoulder to see where his friends went, but couldn't locate anyone.

"My mates went to another bar. I got sidetracked when I noticed you through the window," Scorpius explained, picking up my confusion. He downed both shots immediately and then ordered another one for me. "Sorry. Needed a drink. Though you look like you do too."

"Cheers," I mumbled.

I was secretly warmed by the thought of him leaving his friends for me. In a flash I felt fifteen again – insecure, naive, not in the know of how to handle this gorgeous, smart, and arrogant boy in front of me, but happy to get his attention nonetheless. This was one of Scorpius's worst qualities: he always managed to reduce me to a lesser, more self-conscious version of myself. It happened at the bar (even though he wasn't trying) and it would happen many times after that.

"Please do elaborate on your dire state, Lily," he drawled, giving me the shot glass and ordering yet another two. "I admit I am both fascinated by the lack of your usually chipper voice and also hammered enough to forget what you're about to tell me tomorrow."

"You're not that hammered," I pointed out – though I saw that he was quickly reaching that particular way of being – and drank the shot. "And anyway, why would I tell you?"

"Misery loves company?"

I saw that as a valid argument, since my brain was muddled. And thus, I elaborated on my dire state. "Today, my boyfriend of six months kindly explained to me that he was shagging someone else."

"No!" Scorpius emphatically exclaimed. "That is just... brutal."

"Humiliating is what it is!" I replied, feeling the fresh wound of mortification throb somewhere in my chest.

Admittedly, I wasn't completely heartbroken. I was, but only kind of. Niall was rich and good-looking and seemed nice, but since that last quality went out of the window rather quickly and the first two aren't everything in life, he didn't turn out to be such a catch after all.

(In retrospect, I hadn't been heartbroken about Niall at all. Heartache was a feeling I had yet to endure truly and deeply.)

"Well, I'm sure you'll find another pretty boy to add to your collection soon," Scorpius said, raising his glass.

(If only I had known.)

"I think that was every bit as insulting as it was comforting," I responded, raising mine too, "but thanks." Then, because I no longer possessed a sense of social decorum in the face of love-related debasement, "Why are you trying to be comforting? It's unlike you."

Scorpius leaned in closer. "Confrontational questions, huh?"

"I know you don't really like people, in general," I shrugged. He smelled nice. "I mean, I know you try to mask it for some people, but really, I can see _right_ through you."

He grinned. "Can you?"

I exclaimed, "You're Rose's best mate. That in itself is proof enough!"

Now, that wasn't my best move, bringing her up.

He stopped laughing. He didn't pull away, physically, but I saw the flicker in his eyes, the flicker of regret, the flicker of anger, the flicker of acute love sickness. And maybe I didn't recognise the look for what is was at that moment – because I didn't know Scorpius that well, and for all I knew he _was_ over her – but I did recognise a significant change.

Fortunately, or unfortunately (if you will), that was also the moment someone decided to use the deserted karaoke bar.

"Oh no, no no _no_," I shrieked, partly swapping the sudden uneasiness away and partly genuinely irritated, "I _hate_ karaoke."

Scorpius acknowledged my attempt and went with it. He recovered quickly, schooled his features back into amusement, commented, "It's not that bad."

"It is," I said forcibly, glad for the opportunity. "Not up for discussion!"

"Oh come on," he tried. "I'll sing a song for you!"

And this just about clashed with everything Scorpius was.

Scorpius was cool. Scorpius was _cold_, even. If Scorpius belonged anywhere, it'd be on the outskirts of Scotland, with its cutting winds, grey skies, and continuing rain. Scorpius did _not_ belong in a bar where karaoke was fine, and he most certainly did not belong on a stage where singing karaoke songs was fine. I knew that. I was one of the few people who did, actually. Which was why, for the first time that evening, I smiled with honesty.

(In hindsight, this hit me extremely hard. Later, in my bed, this would run through my head, over and over again, like a mantra. _I'll sing a song for you_, _I'll sing a song for you_, _I'll sing a song for you_.)

However, I spared him the embarrassment.

"I would, just saying!" Scorpius held up both his hands.

"Why would you, though?" I asked, judgingly. "I mean – _karaoke_, really?"

"I like it," he said, defensively.

"But _why_?"

"There is something..." he looked at me pensively, "so very uninhibited about it. Exhibitionistic, almost."

"_Or_," I said pointedly, "you're just always drunk enough to enjoy it."

"_Or_," Scorpius mimicked, "_or_..."

"Or what?"

"I need another drink for this."

"For _what_?"

Scorpius called the bartender. He drank one shot and gave another to me.

"Or I just like karaoke because I like Rose," he finished, then, catching me off guard once more. "Rose likes karaoke. We used to sing karaoke together all the time, and sometimes she wanted to sleep with me after."

I froze a bit. I had not seen that coming and did not know what to do with it.

When I had encountered Scorpius in the kitchen, years prior, he had been composed. Sad – but composed. Just like always. That moment, though, he was different. He was a little frantic: he ran his hand through his hair twice in one minute, sighed heavily, looked so, so lost in just a snap second. As it turned out, Scorpius lost social decorum in the face of love-related debasement too.

"You're drunk," I stated, eventually.

"I am," he confirmed. "Bartender!"

"Scorpius – "

He drank another shot. Gave me one as well.

"Lily," he sighed again, "I understand your pain. That guy who left you, well, he's just a dick. You have a right to be angry with him. But you know what, I am left too – because, she just left, without much ado. And I have nothing to be angry about," rattling, he was rattling now, "because she didn't have to fucking _consult_ with me or anything. I'm not her boyfriend. I'm just her friend. I'm just a friend she can leave behind whenever she feels like it. And you know why, on a very basic level, that is? You know why that is, Lily?"

I said nothing.

"She doesn't love me."

He gazed at me straight, glassy eyes and all.

"She does," I whispered, still taken aback, still not knowing what to do and feeling inept.

"No, _no_," he shook his head, "she doesn't. Just like that guy doesn't love you."

I flinched.

He repeated, "I understand your pain."

And then – this is seriously what happened – he kissed me.

Out of the blue.

As soon as registration hit me, I pushed him off. He was a bit unstable on his barstool, nearly fell off for a moment. He restored balance instantly, however, and touched my arm with what was almost a loving gesture.

"Lily," he said, no trace of a smile, gaze unfocused but earnest, "Why do I keep telling you the truth?"

His hand found my hand.

"Scorpius," I said, "I don't know if this is the kind of comfort I want."

(Later, I realised how I didn't know anything back then. I didn't know whether I'd loved Niall, I didn't know why Scorpius was kissing me, I didn't know if we had a connection or if I was just making stuff up. Maybe I just wanted to get laid and that is why I let him touch the curve of my spine without pushing him off for a second time.)

He leaned in closer, "Are you sure?"

(And this is the moment that made me hate myself in all the years to come.)

"I don't know what I want," I whimpered.

He slipped off his barstool, said quietly in my ear, "You bring out the truth in me."

He kissed me again, and I let him.

Not much later, I ended up in his clean, soulless apartment, and checked in for what would become a long, excrutiating love affair.

* * *

It wasn't romantic. There was nothing pretty or emotionally deep about it. He didn't look me in the eye, nor did he caress my cheek or tell me I was the most beautiful woman alive. The love we made wasn't love at all – not at that point (maybe not even at any point) – but something raw, something unrefined. Something produced by two unhappy people that were either sad because they missed a vital piece in their life (Scorpius) or because they had just been dumped (me).

The way everything happened fit the situation perfectly. There was a desperation about the whole ordeal that appealed to me greatly – he didn't care and I didn't want to care. I was living out my teenage fantasy in a terribly warped way.

I forgot Niall for at least twenty minutes.

Scorpius probably remembered Rose the whole way through.


End file.
